To Never Be Diminished
by Forge2
Summary: Crossover with Firefly. Serenity has a new pilot, Winifred Burkle. She cooks, she flies, she babbles. Even Jayne seems to like her. But something powerful lurks behind her eyes. And why is she so interested in River?
1. The Dire Importance of Tacos

Chapter One: The Dire Importance of Tacos

Serenity: January 2519 

Mal stared down uncertainly at the tacos. They looked edible but you could never be too sure.

"You made tacos," he pointed out.

"Aye capt'n," his new pilot seemed inordinately pleased with herself, grinning wide enough to rival Kaylee.

"Huh," he nodded and glanced around. "Why tacos?"

"You don't like them," she glanced down and tucked a blue strand behind her ear.

"Now I didn't say that…" he shrugged helplessly.

"Fred," Zoe piped up. "I think what the captain is trying to say is…why tacos?"

"What's wrong with tacos?" Fred looked up sharply. "Tacos are very important you know. Like when you're trapped all alone for years and years. Can't go out. Can't escape. You say the words over and over again but nothing ever happens. Slave so long that everything else becomes a dream, tacos become real important right about then."

Mal blinked. "So," he said. "Tacos it is."

"The tortillas are just your basic resequenced protein, but it's real chicken." Fred glanced uncertainly around. "If ya'll don't want them," she said. "Then I'll eat them all."

Jayne immediately sprung into action spearing one of the tacos with his knife. He took a small experimental bite.

"The shell doesn't matter," River said. She glided to the table. "It's what's inside that counts. Locked up too long in the dark. They forgot what it meant to be a chicken." She frowned. "Memories are the component parts of the self. Cascade failure, entropy increases, memory corrodes. Are the chickens still chickens if they don't remember?"

Fred's eyes flashed dangerously. For a moment her features shifted into something alien. Inara narrowed her eyes in concern. She felt a chill run up her spin at the coldness in those eyes. Then as quickly as it had come the moment was gone. Inara could almost believe she had imagined it, almost.

"Tastes like chicken," Jayne said. "Then it's chicken." The others began to sit down and serve themselves.

"We got a course set," Mal asked between bites.

"All plotted and laid in. We'll be at Trantor in about a day," Fred answered.

"Another stop in an exciting life of crime," Inara said.

"Hey," Mal said. "I'll have you know it was dangerous. Could have been killed right enough."

"Of course, and what was our take in the great teddy bear heist?"

"Enough to pay for this here shiny feast," Mal said. "I know jobs have been somewhat scarce of late, but we have a powerful need to stay of the Alliance radar for a good while. Could be they've got a lot of other things on their mind about now, but they ain't going to be forgetting Miranda in a hurry." A beeping interrupted him. "What was that?"

"Just a proximity alarm," Fred said rising from her seat. "Probably just have to make a minor correction. Nothing to worry about." As she headed off to the bridge, River's eyes followed her.

"Something wrong River," Mal asked.

She turned and met Mal's eyes. "It's dark where she is," River nodded towards Fred's retreating back. Then she took a huge bite out of her taco.

Undisclosed Location: June 2518 

The Operative waited patiently in the dark. She said she would contact him at exactly 1300 hours, and she was nothing if not punctual. He had heard the stories. Dr. Burkle was a legend in certain circles. Most considered her a myth, like a ghost, but the Operative knew better. After all, that's what they said about him. His computer beeped demanding confirmation. The ocular scan took a few moments to verify. He rose to his full height and waited.

The screen flickered to life. Dr. Burkle's cold blue eyes stared out at him. She didn't say hello, but then she never did.

"You are aware of the Tam situation," she asked. He nodded. The Academy's greatest success and worst embarrassment.

"My steps to reacquire her were unsuccessful," Burkle frowned. "My agents have paid for their failures. Every hour that psychic is free the danger increases. That cannot be allowed. I have need of one of your kind. Hunt her down and return her to me. You have full Parliamentary authority. You will begin at the Academy." She tilted her head peering at the Operative. "You have questions."

"What are your orders concerning Dr. Mathias?"

"His is useful to me no more." The Operative nodded his understanding. Mathias was widely considered the head of the operation, but Burkle had long ago assumed de facto control.

Dr. Burkle was not a woman to have as an enemy. Like him she had no place in the new world. He would protect it, and she would build it, but neither would live there. Sometimes though, the Operative caught hints in Burkle's voice. She would only grudgingly mention Parliament, as if it irritated her to answer to a greater power. That was dangerous. Perhaps one day, he would be forced to tell her, her sin. Today, however, he had a little girl to catch.

"Do you have further question?"

"No," the Operative said.

"Then we are done." The screen went suddenly dark.

Dr. Burkle rose from her computer in one fluid motion. Her skin darkened gaining a bluish tint. Blue streaks seeped into her hair, a simple modulation of her form. Illyria had been forced to assume the aspect of the shell so often that the lines were blurring. Winifred Burkle had brown eyes in life, but Illyria could no longer hide her own blue orbs. It was galling that a previously simple process was becoming increasingly difficult, a sign of things to come.

She wished the Tam situation had not come this. The Operative was effective, but his loyalty to the Alliance was too strong for Illyria's liking. She wished she could send Spike instead, but that was, of course, impossible. No, the Operative would have to suffice. She turned and exited, taking a plate with her. The halls were deserted. This was her wing of the compound; no one came without her permission. She placed her hand on the panel. It beeped confirming her identity. The door swung open. The guard magic recognized her and allowed her to pass.

The far wall was filled, floor to ceiling with TV screens. News and shows all flashed by. A figure sat unmoving before them. The dull light of the TV's flickered across his face. Illyria approached him blocking his view. He made no move.

"You will eat," Illyria said. He didn't answer, he never did. "I brought tacos." She sat the plate down in front of him. He didn't so much as blink. Illyria stared down at her catatonic pet. He'd been like this for almost a century now. It would be more humane to simply stake him and put his ashes on the mantle with the other half-breed, but Illyria would never do that. Like her, he was the last.

"They've got blood on them," she added brightly, Fred's accent coloring her words. Still no response. Spike just sat there motionless, as always.


	2. The Questionable Habits of Pilots

Disclaimer: I own nothing. It's all Joss'. The date for the colonization of Londinium is arbitrary. If anyone knows a better approximation that would be great. Please Read and Review.

Chapter Two: The Questionable Habits of Pilots

_Serenity: January 2519_

Zoe stared suspiciously at Fred. After Wash, she felt entitled to hate any new pilot, but it wasn't that. Something bothered her. Fred was too nice, too bubbly for anyone who wasn't Kaylee. She was far too earnest to be trusted. Not to mention mysterious skills that seemed to pop up as needed. It was more than a tad worrisome, and a quick glance at the Captain showed she wasn't alone in her thoughts.

"Where'd you learn a skill like that," Mal asked.

Fred waved a hand dismissively. "I'm a fast learner. Besides the principles are simple." In the corner Jayne spit, polishing his guns, trying to appear uninterested. Fred spared him a look. "If you take into account the power distribution systems dirt side, and the tendency of certain…"

Mal held up a hand to stop her before she entered into another long incomprehensible stream of technobabble. "You think you can rig your little device by tonight? Cause it would be mighty helpful."

"Should be able to. It's not that hard. The problem would be in isolating the museum's power grid from the rest of the city. Wouldn't help if everyone for miles lost their power. People might start to look for faults, and I don't need to tell you that would be a problem because…"

"Alright I get it," Mal said. "Are you sure you can do this with just them spare pars Kaylee got lying around?"

"Well," Fred said. ""I once made a foot operated axe thrower out of next to nothing," she paused. "It also made toast."

Mal blinked. "Got much cause for axe throwing where you're from?"

"Oh, that was just a random thought. What if you had to do battle with your arms cut off? Sure, you'd hemorrhage to death pretty quick, but at least you could take your enemy with you!" Fred smiled brightly.

"Gwai-gwai long duh dong," Mal cried. "Go," he pointed. "go about your fiddling." Fred smiled and nodded. Mal and Zoe glanced uncertainly at each other. They weren't sure what was more unsettling: how cheerful Fred had been talking about hemorrhages, or the love struck look on Jayne's face as he watched her leave.

Londinium: 2215 

A new earth. Illyria gazed around, her face impassive. A city was slowly taking shape in the distance, but for now there was only a makeshift shantytown. Some had remained vesselside, but most needed to escape the claustrophobic ships. Here they could breath the alien air, feel an unearthly wind. This was a world of open spaces, great expanses, as Earth had been in its youth. Illyria bent down and scoped up a handful of dirt. She let it flow through her fingers.

"Well Blue?" Illyria didn't turn at the voice. She had felt him approach.

"Can you hear it half-breed? The green sings a lament for the Earth-That-Was. You try to remake this world in Earth's image, but the green will not be fooled. Already your kind carves this world into pitiful boxes, lays claim to small kingdoms, and you dared to call me vain. I was God to a god, yet I was never so greedy. This tiny island in the black will not hold them all."

"Right," Spike nodded. "Whatever you say, your worship. Mind you, something smells different."

Illyria rose, her features morphing into a perfect replica of Fred. Spike barely grimaced. He'd become used to it over the years, and it was a necessity. But it still hurt, a dull ache in his unbeating heart. "Everything is changed," Illyria said. "Ground, air, fire, water all are not what they were." She waved, her hand encompassing the grassland, the trees, and the snowcapped mountains in the distance. "This is but a shell, a mask."

"Dirt is dirt," Spike said shrugging. "Can we go? I'm feelin' a mite peckish."

"No," Illyria said. She frowned at the horizon. "Dirt is not dirt. The magic is weaker here."

"Say again, Blue."

"The magic is become thin and stretched. I walked all these world and more besides in my time of glory, but never have I felt a magic so dilute."

Spike frowned, as the implications began to set in. "What's that mean."

"I am uncertain," Illyria said. Suddenly her face was transformed. "Come on," she said. "It's not all bad. Look at you not turning to dust." She gestured up at the alien sun. She grinned. "Let's go see if they have some buffalo wings, or tacos, do you think they might have tacos." She slipped her arm through his, and half dragged him towards the market place.

Serenity: January 2519 

"Who's he," Inara asked. Fred didn't glance up from her work. Her bunk was crowded. Kaylee had wanted to see what Fred was making, and dragged Inara along. She glanced around the cabin. It was even more Spartan than Mal's. The only decoration was a well-worn photo of a scruffy man with an angry scar across his neck. It was a still photo, probably taken on some border world, where holotechnology was lacking. Kaylee looked up. She had been peering over Fred's shoulder and making excited grunts.

Wandering over to the bed stand and picked up the picture. "Cute," she said.

"Put that down," Fred barked coldly. Startled Kaylee fumbled putting the picture down. There was a chill in the air. It lingered angrily, until Fred shrugged and smiled apologetically. "Sorry," she said. "Didn't mean to snap at ya." Kaylee smiled back uncertainly.

"Wesley," Fred said at last. Answering Inara. "His name was Wesley. He was my Qwa'ha Xahn." Inara frowned softly at the unfamiliar term. She didn't even recognize the language.

"What happened," Kaylee asked.

"He died," Fred stated.

"Oh sweetie," Kaylee said.

"Don't worry about it. It was a long time ago," Fred turned back to her work, jabbing it forcefully.

She beamed, handing Mal her device proudly. "It should work. The power to all the security devices should just die out. Of course, you'd have to be real close, I couldn't find a way to boost the signal."

"Should work," Mal said.

"Well I'm not making any guarantees here, but I don't see why it shouldn't. Though it might be best if I were there to make sure." She smiled innocently.

"Was that you subtly including yourself in our little heist?"

"Aye Capt'n."

"Mind telling me why?"

Fred shrugged. "I wish do some violence."

"Huh," Mal said. He raised his eyebrows at Zoe.

"Seems to me, sir, that with her know-how, little Fred could probably find a way to get there before us."

"True enough. You packing," he asked.

"Don't like guns," Fred said.

"No touching," River piped up, nodding vigorously.

"Can't take a pretty little thing like you along without…"

Jayne stepped forward unsheathing one of his knives. Offering it to Fred, he smiled almost bashfully.

"Thanks Jayne," Fred said accepting the weapon. "That's awful sweet of ya." She leaned up and gave him a quick peck on the cheek, then walked off to the cargo bay, whistling slightly. Jayne brought a hand to his cheek, a dazed look in his eyes.

"This is getting a mite disturbing," Mal said. In the back, Simon opened his mouth. Closed it. Frowned. Opened it again, before turning away toward the infirmary.

_Trantor: January 2519_

"Hold it right there, miss." Fred turned. At the other end of the museum corridor stood two guards. Their guns trained on her.

"Hey fellas," she said taking a step towards them. "This ain't what it looks like. I mean I know, it's the middle of the night all alone in a locked museum, but honestly I was just looking for…" She sprang into action suddenly. Before either guard could blink she had crossed the distance separating them. Upon them in an instant, she crushed one of their skulls with a single blow. She let the body fall limply to the ground. "Insufficient." She tilted her head, peering at the remaining guard. He blinked slightly, frozen shock. He gulped, and raising his gun, fired point blank.

Fred ran up to the others. "Sorry I'm late. Did you get the whatchamacallit?"

"Yea, all's nice and shiny. What happened to you," Mal asked.

"Got turned around…"

"We heard shots," Zoe said. Her eyes narrowed.

"Oh that," Fred waved a dismissive hand. "I took care of that." Mal gave her a hard stare. She met his eyes impassively.

Finally Mal blinked looking away. "Let's make some dust," he said. As the mule sped back to Serenity, Mal resisted the urge to glance back at Fred. He wasn't sure, but he could have sworn her eyes hadn't been quit so blue before.


	3. Chapter Three: The Morally Ambiguous Mot

Chapter Three: The Morally Ambiguous Motives of Scientists

_Osiris: 2515_

Illyria watched the girl dance. Such fluid motion, she had a natural grace to rival the long extinct slayers. Just lacking their power. The girl's eyes glinted with delight. Illyria glanced around. The audience was enraptured, as well they should be. Over the eons Illyria had seen other gifted children, but this one—this one was a true prodigy. Illyria's lips twitched, smiling.

Spike sat beside her, his bat-like features cloaked in the shadows. He watched the dance unblinkingly. Illyria could see the approval in his eyes, and something else, a deep sadness. Perhaps he was lost in memory. Remembering another dark haired beauty who once danced beneath the stars. Onstage the tempo increased, and the girl continued to dance faster and faster, her form immaculate. Illyria nodded to herself. Yes, River Tam would do.

Serenity: January 2519 

"Have we met before," Simon asked. Fred leaned back from the controls.

"Don't think so," she said. "Maybe in a dream. " She smirked. "but I wouldn't tell Kaylee that."

"What? No I-I didn't mean…"

"Relax Simon. I'm only joking. "

"Still," Simon said. "You seem very familiar."

Fred shrugged. "I get that a lot," she said. Simon frowned at her.

"There you are," Kaylee poked her head through the hatch. "Come on Simon, the Capt'n wants a word."

"A word?" Simon's voice was apprehensive. It was his patented 'what has River done now?' tone.

"Yeah," Kaylee said brightly, but her smile seemed a little forced. "With the crew."  
"Don't worry Simon," Fred added. "Most likely just wants to have himself a little pow-wow about me."

"Now I'm sure that ain't—" Kaylee broke off, as Fred swiveled around her eyebrows raised. "Sorry sweetie, I'm sure he don't mean anything by it. He's just…"

"Relax, I ain't bothered. Besides," Fred smiled. "I've got nothing to hide." Kaylee smiled back. Fred waved as the other two left. Then she was alone with the black. The instruments beeped their mechanical music in time to Serenity's dance among the stars.

"I know you're here," she said at length. River emerged from the shadows.

"Location is a mathematical fallacy," River said. "Input varies, the calculations are riddled with redundancies." Fred shrugged her eyes still on the controls. "Two locations intersect, perpendicular lines form a right angle. We've met before," River walked softly and peered down studying Fred from above. "Dreaming envelops and lops back on memory. Is familiarity an illusion, the phantom of neurons firing, a delusion of the corpus callosum? You're a liar," she told Fred solemnly. "A facsimile, not a real girl."

"Neither are you," Fred answered, and she should know.

The Academy: January 2517 

River's face was covered in blood.

"I see you," she said into the camera. Illyria tilted her head and studied her most prized student. Little River Tam had killed her interviewer with a pen. Dr. Mathias would not be pleased, but Illyria smiled a cold reptilian smile and felt something almost akin to pride. The girl was incredible, even more than she had ever dreamed. Yes River Tam would more than do. Illyria had wanted Spike to lead her armies in the coming war, but River would make a worthy replacement. This little slip of a girl danced when she fought, as Spike had done so long ago. Illyria nodded slightly and gave the order. On the screen she could see the guards rush in to subdue River. Illyria hoped the subject would resist. It would give her further opportunity to assess her skill.

Illyria frowned softly in the dark. It had been a long lonely road from that alley to here. The Earth-That-Was, the crowning jewel in her ancient empire was lost to the void. These spinning moons and planets were as much Earth as she was Fred, and it showed. She had felt the first hints, long ago, even as she took her first steps on Londinium. She had not understood then, the doom that was approaching. Lesser demons and witches had felt it first, a weariness deep in their bones. Magic faded slowly day by day. Charmed objects and hexes faded into dust becoming mundane and ordinary. Fledglings grew weaker and lethargic before entropy had consumed leaving nothing but ash. As the remnants of the supernatural had faded, Spike remained. He survived by force of will, his and Illyria's. But Illyria knew it would not last forever. Sooner or later Spike would turn to dust. She knew it, even as she knew that he was but the precursor of her own fate. Oh her will was strong, her powers great…but already she could feel the effects. It might take another thousand years but her doom was approaching.

No! She would not fade away. Not Illyria God-King of the Prymordium, Shaper of Things. Demon lords, and gods had knelt at her feet and sworn fealty, no she would not go quietly. Answers lay in science, in the girl and others like her. Her shell had once been knowledgeable about such things. Well she would need that knowledge now, for her sake…and for Spike's. But if this doom was unavoidable, then she would not face the end as some unknown being, nor as the ruthless Dr. Winifred Burkle. No if it was her fate too be consumed by entropy, then she would die as Illyria ruler of all the worlds and this pathetic little Alliance would be reshaped in her image. She glanced down at the screen where little River danced her lethal dance with the guards, and smiled.

Serenity: January 2519 

River sat in the copilot seat, with her knees hugged to her chest. She studied Fred closely.

"Scratch the shell," River said. "and the rats come scurrying out to and fro. There are words and confusion, and dreams. Some of it can be organized placed in little boxes, cross-referenced under time of death, but some of it can't be quantified, stamped and numbered. Some thoughts don't have authorization to be thought, just little fish dancing in a desert…it's dark where you are. Nothing but shell and shadows, silence and secrets."

Fred shrugged. "It's not my shell that matters," she replied. "It's yours."

"What's under my shell?"

"You tell me," Fred said.

The Academy: May 2517 

Simon glanced around, desperately trying to hide his nervousness. Someone must have noticed…but no. Everyone's eyes were firmly fixed at their screens. Dr. Mathias was chattering away, fawning all over him with fake smiles. It was probably important, what he was saying, but Simon was having trouble paying attention. Because there she was…River. At last after all this time. She'd grown. He covered up a wince, as she cried out in pain. _Oh __mei mei. _He wanted to rush over and hold her close, but it wasn't time yet. He had to wait, just a little longer. Maybe he could figure out what they were doing.

"Allow me to introduce one of our more brilliant minds, Dr. Burkle," Mathias said. She studied him as if he was the experiment, not River. Her eyes, god her eyes. Icy blue, unnatural. Then the moment passed, and she looked away. _Key members of Parliament. Gao yang jong duh goo yang_! He knew that the Academy had influential backers…but Parliament itself. He hadn't dared believe, but here was the proof. Oh River…Unnoticed by him, Dr. Burkle slipped quietly out of the room.

Serenity: January 2519 

"She's a mite queer I must admit," Mal said. "Folks are entitled to a few secrets of their own, but it seems to me she's got more of them then I'm comfortable with."

"I don't trust her," Zoe said. "She's awful convenient with all those skills of hers. Too convenient."

"Well I like her," said Jayne.

"And that in itself is worrisome," said Mal.

Jayne frowned. "Hey," he cried.

Inara sighed softly. "She's not what she appears. She tries to hide it, but sometimes she makes mistakes."

"What's she hiding," Zoe asked.

"I don't know, but she's not all sweetness and light."

Kaylee arrived with the doctor in tow. They sat slowly. "I think she's kindly," said Kaylee. "And she makes tacos." Jayne grunted in agreement. Simon frowned but didn't say anything.

"There's no question she's got skeletons in her cupboard. Ain't no one at this table who doesn't." said Mal. "Question's as to whether her secret's gonna hurt ours. From what she's said, I gather there was a time that Fred was a slave. Probably on one of the border planets. Explains a lot. Border barons ain't a friendly bunch as a rule. Slaves need a great many skills to survive." Mal glared, as Jayne leered. "And not necessarily the skills you're thinking of."

"Man can think can't he?" Jayne leaned back smiling blissfully. Inara rolled her eyes.

"Interesting's how she got here," said Zoe. "If you're right…well there ain't many ways out for a slave, and all of them are bloody." She met Mal's eyes.

"Aw…I don't think Fred could hurt any body," Kaylee said.

"I do," said Inara.

Mal nodded. "All this speculating is mighty interesting, but it don't answer the question proper. Does she represent a danger to this boat?"

"She's been taking an unhealthy interest in River," Simon spoke for the first time.

"Noticed that," said Mal. "But then, no offense Doc, the girl's a mite difficult to miss. Still that speaks to leaving her behind. Contract's up at the end of the month. Could be we let her go after that. Find ourselves a shiny new pilot." Simon frowned then sat up suddenly, all the color draining from his face. "Got something to add Doc?"

"I remember…I remember where I saw her before," he looked at Mal, his eyes wide. "The Academy!"

""Lao-tyen, boo," Mal cursed.

"What," said Jayne.

"She's a fed."

"Huh?"

"Fred," said Mal. "is a gorramn fed!"

"What do you want," River asked softly. Fred paused. Leaning back, she swiveled to face her.

"To conquer all and never die," was the reply. Clear confident and determined. A world away from Fred's usually bubbly voice.

River studied her intently. "That is way of all things. Everything has its time. Entropy increases…nothing lasts forever," she said.

"Perhaps you are correct," Fred said. "Perhaps…" She took a deep breath. "And do you want, little River?"

"To be River, not an animal, not prey. To be a girl, solid through," River paused. "To be left lone."

Fred tilted her head. Her gaze piecing deep into River's soul, as if searching. Brown meet blue eyes and for a moment it seemed as though the universe was completely still. Silence. "Done," Fred said at length. Then she smiled. River smiled back.

"Get the hell away from her," shouted Simon. River and Fred turned. In the doorway stood Mal, Jayne, and Zoe. All their guns trained firmly on Fred. Simon was right behind them, looking angrier then anyone had ever seen him.

"Now fellas. There ain't no need for this," said Fred her accent suddenly thick. "We were just having a nice little conversation."

"The only conversation you're gonna be having, is what in goramn hell you're doing on my boat. No more rutting secrets!"

Fred studied them for a moment then smiled. "As you wish." She stood in a single fluid motion, almost faster then the eye could follow. Her body began to morph. Her clothes were replaced by some form of leather armor. She stood taller, her skin paler, her eyes even more blue. This was Illyria, God-King of the Prymordium, revealed in all her glory. There was a chill in the room now, and the very air seemed to whisper promises of mutilation and despair. It took all of Mal's will just to stop his hand from shaking. In the corner, River curled up into a ball and screamed, and screamed, and screamed.


End file.
